Miele
by Lluvia Di'Noche
Summary: He was honey. He trickled sweet and was always on Jacob's mind. {Seborga x Hutt River Oneshot. Commission for @askhuttriver on Tumblr)


He was honey. He trickled sweet and was always on Jacob's mind. Sometimes he was clover honey. The type that was perfect on toast and golden to the touch. Sometimes he was manuka honey. That perfect thing for healing and a taste for only a special few. Sometimes he was sourwood honey. He would be sweeter than imaginable. He could be buckwheat honey. Darker and not very popular. Lavender honey, rose honey, or sage. He was all of them. No telling when he'd get a new taste of honey. Sometimes he expected clover and got buckwheat or expected buckwheat and got lavender. But most of the time, he was clover. Simple, golden, clover.

Jacob adored him and Santino adored him.

 _"Miele."_ he would whisper to him on nights they sat under the stars together, _"Heaven couldn't compare to you."_

They were dumb teenagers, and they were so happy in love. Santino loved listening to Jacob talk about those things he hid from others. He could listen to him talk about the cars in the street all day or the vehicles in magazines. Jacob could listen to Santino talk about music and listen to him sing for the rest of his life. He didn't think there was anything in the world that could possibly be better than that.

They laughed under the stars and Santino would hold Jacob's hands close to his heart. They would share soft kisses, rant (sometimes he ended up talking to one of his alters halfway through the night), and Jacob would talk about buying a castle with him on those nights where things were stressful and Astrid was in his arms for a bit.

Sometimes Santino would call him names.

 _"Leccaculo"_ he snorted once when Jacob had been trying to sweet talk him, _"You'll need a lot of toilet paper to wipe the shit from your mouth from all that ass kissing."_

Some nights, he would kiss Jacob's cheeks until they were falling from his face. Then he would insist he read him poems because he loved the sound of his voice. He would sneak cigarettes for them both (sometimes some wine) and they would hold hands on that bridge where nothing in the world mattered but their stories and each other. Santino would bring some honey cookies and lean on Jacob with the brightest smile in the world.

During the rare event that Jacob allowed Santino to touch his hair, Santino happily braided tiny braids and placed a million hideous butterfly and cupcake clips in his hair. Of course, they never lasted ten minutes, but he tried to keep them on for as long as he possibly could; his record being nine minutes and five seconds. That time had been a miracle. Jacob was very particular about his hair being messed with, especially by someone like Santino who clipped a million glittery butterfly clips in. But sometimes, he liked the feeling of Santino's fingers in his hair while he hummed a soft song. In those moments he was drowning in honey.

 _"So handsome!"_ Santino would giggle and snap a picture.

Jacob knew he looked absolutely repulsive. But the smile on Santino's face was worth looking so terrible.

Nights like this night, Jacob wished he could stop the world from spinning and dance with Santino to the ends of the Earth.

"I found out that my brother has a huge thing for cat ears. Weird, I always thought he would have been more into sailors or something like that. Maybe bondage."

They were sitting there, as they always did, in that room with too many posters and too little furniture.

 _"Who needs a dozen bean bags and shelves?"_ he replied upon inquiry.

There they sat and he always had something new to say. Something about his brothers or life or a weird food combination he had tried. Jacob listened (and gagged sometimes) to him as he spoke. There could not have been a sweeter sound in the world than the ridiculous stories and facts Santino told.

"I didn't plan on learning about your brother's kinks today, you know," he said.

"But now you are! Because I've been traumatized by his search history and the tentacle set he has kept hidden in the closet."

"Santino please-"

Santino didn't know the word "no" when it came to any situation where he could embarrass Lorenzo.

"Lore is about as vanilla as double chocolate chip ice cream."

"I couldn't tell."

Santino laughed and sat up properly. He poked at Jacob's chest before flopping lazily forward and wrapping his arms around his neck loosely. They could spend hours like that. They had before. Hours upon hours just sitting and holding each other. It was the best thing, to hold him very close and talk to him about their dreams and their lives.

It didn't matter the way people looked at them, confused at how they worked so well despite such contradicting personalities (or at least, that was the way they saw it).

"I love you." Jacob kissed his cheek.

"Gay."

"You cannot respond to everything I say with 'gay' you know."

"Sounds fake. Gay."

Jacob shook his head and pulled Santino closer, hugging him tight and sighing as he kissed his forehead, "What on Earth do I do with you? You're an absolute heathen."

Santino shrugged and began to unclip the butterfly clips, "Replace me with one of your cars. I know you love them more than me."

"Lies." Jacob put on of the clips in his hair, smiling at Santino, "I love you and my cars equally."

Santino didn't say anything, he just flopped again and let Jacob hold him. He tilted his head up to look at him and laughed a little as he pulled the last of the butterfly clips from his hair.

Santino was honey. He brought youth to Jacob and made his skin soft. He was the cure to his sick days and the best part of his day.

"Miele," Santino murmured, trailing his hand along Jacob's cheek.

"Hm? What is it my honeybee?"

"In our castle, can we plant a million carnations? I always loved them. And! Let's paint the walls a nice seafoam green."

"Whatever you wish."

Life was not exciting. They didn't go out to parties, nor did they do wild things in the bedroom. In fact, the one time they tried both burst out laughing. They just embraced each other, shared a million kisses, and did dumb teenager things. Sometimes they stole some cigarettes and liquor, sometimes they sat a little high from those brownies that were too tempting to leave.

But sometimes, during moments such as this? He swore that the world stopped just to see Santino's smile and listen to him sing. They watched Mean Girls on repeat with him and listened to him go off about Bocelli, humming a soft tune as he spoke. Half the time they didn't pay attention to the movie.

And they'd talk. Like two lovesick teenagers without a worry in the world. They did not care if it seemed temporary or if they were just kids. They were happy and they were stupid and they were free. What did it matter if it was temporary? Jacob and Santino were happy as they were and if it was meant to end, so be it. But for now, they would love like they knew no other form of it.

"I can't wait to get a castle with you. We'll be the rulers of our own tiny kingdom. We can make an army of cats!"

"Cats?"

"Yes! Cats! They will protect us forever!"

"Alright, we'll have a cat army."

No, life didn't get much better than this. Planning his future with his honeycomb lover in a castle of carnations and lively colors. A cat army to protect them and nights like this where they were lazy and they didn't go out because there was no reason to. Oh, it sounded wonderful.

Maybe it was temporary, maybe he would eventually drift away. His lover of honey would need new bees or he would want a new home. Maybe Jacob would grow weary of honey and flowers and the thought of an army made of cats. Maybe. But those maybes did not matter and he did not let them affect his joy.

Because if those maybes existed, the maybes for them together were there too. That maybe they would grow old together, still sitting beneath the stars. Maybe they would meet one day in the garden of their castle where people waited for them to walk with their pristine suits to place a new ring on their fingers. Maybe one day they would share their songs and movie nights with a child to call their own. Maybe one day they would see that child find a love like this. Maybe they would grow old and grey with Jacob still reading Santino poems and talking to him about cars he wanted to fix up but never would. And Santino would reach up with his aged hands and cup his cheek like he had done a million times before. He would kiss his jaw, chin, cheek, before landing one delicate kiss on his lips. He would laugh a golden laugh and call him as he always had.

 _Miele._


End file.
